If you keep up with me on my social media streams, you’ve probably noticed the hashtag, #poutinechallenge, popping up quite frequently in the past week. What the hell is poutine challenge, you ask?  Um… well it’s practically a gluttony contest created by the Vancouver Foodster for poutine-obsessed folk such as myself. Basically, he wants to know where the best poutine is in Vancouver and invited all of Vancouver to participate in the hunt during the past week at 29 different restaurants.

So what exactly makes a poutine? Traditionally, french fries, cheese curds, and gravy. Now, if you’ve looked at all the listed flavours on the website, it’s no joke that they strayed far off from the norm. Some didn’t even have cheese curds in it and, well, that just ain’t a poutine in my eyes. And the fries on some were just too thick, too starchy. Yuck. And the gravy? One of them tasted like it came out of a can. Not joking.

And besides finding out which restaurant has the best poutine, there was also a very tempting challenge part to the week-long poutine festivities: winning a prize. Not only was the an excellent opportunity to try as many different poutines as possible, it was now a competition. And you all know how competitive I am. Winning is everything. Here is a picture documentary of my #poutinechallenge — let’s see if you can try to keep up!

Preston’s – traditional poutine
Dine Preston's
The Charlatan – poutine grilled cheese
The Charlatan
Rogue Kitchen & Wetbar – poutine trio
Rogue Kitchen & Wetbar
Coast – dungeness crab poutine
Hidden Tasting Bar – butter poached lobster poutine
Hidden Tasting Bar
Dunn’s – quebecois poutine
Society – ultimate poutine supreme
Between Two Buns – kennebec kahuna poutine
Between Two Buns
La Belle Patate – traditional poutine
La Belle Patate
Red Card – curry poutine
Red Card
The Five Point – carolina poutine
The Five Point
The Fray – duck poutine
The Fray
Bob Likes Thai Food – thai poutine
Bob Likes Thai Food
Calabash – jerk poutine
Calabash Bistro
The Flying Pig – pulled pork poutine
The Flying Pig

…which brings me to a whopping grand total of 15 out of 29 poutines tried!!! What up. More than halfway down the list! Yay. $100+ later. And possibly gained the 3lbs that I lost in the past 3-4 weeks all right back. And a gut. My favourite(s)? Coast, hands down. Can’t go wrong with hollandaise, crab, and a fried egg on top. The Fray was a close second and would’ve won if their potatoes weren’t cut so thickly. The Charlatan comes third because, um, hello? Poutined grilled cheese? Yes please. And The Flying Pig and The Five Point are tied for pulled pork. Both so damn good. And lastly, La Belle Patate for traditionality. Between Two Buns gets an honourable mention but no cheese curds!!! What a deliciously fattening week.

Hope some of you guys got to try some of the fabulous and creative poutines we have in this city. Can’t wait til the next food challenge!

Not buying it anymore.

My emotions are like an on and off switch. Yesterday was an off day. Today is an off day. Future days will be off days because words provide no backing and don’t mean anything to me. It’s cliche, but actions speak louder than words. Mean what you say? Then prove it.

PS. It’s difficult blogging from an iPhone. It’s like writing a very long text message. Not recommended.

Taking it slow.

Trying to reacquaint myself with my favourite four letter word — love — and I’m embracing and welcoming it with open arms. I’m glad that someone has the power and ability to not just make me feel a certain way, but has enabled me to actually see it…and hopefully, experience it once again.

I’ve only been in love once. And at that time, I was at a very difference stage in my life. I was still lodged inbetween an awkward transition — similar to my current state and how I am now — but it was different back then. I was in highschool and I was dating this guy whom I really fancied. We were very fond of eachother. Met eachother through a mutual friend and although there were a couple of girls after him, I was able to snag him in the end. After seeing eachother for a couple of months, we were finally “official” and I was soon falling head over heels. On our four month anniversary (remember when we used to keep count and celebrate monthly anniversaries?!), we finally said “I love you” to eachother. It was one of the best feelings ever, to have someone confess their love to you…and for you to feel exactly the same. Oh, how long ago that seemed!

But as our relationship grew, it had its ups and downs…moreso, on the downs as we obviously aren’t together anymore. We didn’t end on a particularly good note and I was heartbroken, desperate, and lonely for a good year and a half. My first love. Who was this guy and how come he was able to make me feel so strongly, in both a loving matter and, in the end, resentment?

That was four years ago. Ironically, four years and two weeks today would have been our sixth anniversary. But I’m glad those days are over. Everything happens for a reason and we definitely were not meant to be together. I was a completely different and naive person back then compared to the person I have become today. Nowadays, I am well-protected — my heart isn’t given away so easily anymore. I’m smarter, prettier, and talented. And I cook and bake better than your mama.

Sure, I’ve dated a fair share of questionable men, but I’m glad I held it out and waited for that special someone. And I’ve never been happier. I am sure not to screw this one up — if anything, it’ll be him. Let’s hope that won’t happen.

Just a note.

If I’m not blogging, that means things are going so well that I don’t even need to document it. Oh, the newfound joys of privacy. And some.

Shallow? Racist? REALLY!?!?

“Shallow” was a word I often heard when I was single and on the hunt for a man. And yeah, I admit that I still am a little shallow but why does that word have to be used with such negative connotations? I hardly see it as a bad thing; in fact, I see it as a positive. My definition of “shallow” would be havingpreference, knowing what I want (atleast at this age), and getting it. Sure, I may have certain “criteria” that I would like to have see fulfilled but it’s certainly not rigid. My boyfriend isn’t half the things I was looking for in a guy but hey, I’m happy because he still satisfies a) b) and c).

Honestly, I’m just writing this post out of spite because of a recent comment on one of my past entries. I’m not too irked that he called me “shallow” but moreso on the fact that he called me racist for having a preference for white guys. Um…no? I’m dating a guy who’s half Colombian and half Chinese. And everybody has their own preferences and biases. I’m sure this person who commented isn’t attracted to every race. I assumed this was common knowledge in this day and age. Guess not.

And I really don’t know what I am defending myself on my own blog. It’s rare that I let things get to me but I guess I’m just really bored at work right now (hence why I’m writing this so damn early). Moral of the story? Live and let live, bitch. Or should I say, write and let write. It’s my blog. ‘Nuff said.

Nicki Minaj – Pink Friday: Reloaded.

Nicki Minaj - Pink Friday: Reloaded
‘Bout time I got some new workout music! Sick album — lots of pop and house influence, little bit of MIA, and lots of great collaborations. Beez in the Trap, Automatic, Whip It, Sex in the Lounge, and I am Your Leader amongst my faves. Love Nicki Minaj!!!

The Real Housewives of Vancouver.

RHOV. Premiere. Is. Tomorrow.

I love The Real Housewives franchise and I am completely stoked for the Vancouver edition of it. And despite my eagerness and overexcitement for the show, I am unable to watch it. Why? Because I don’t have cable. And my boyfriend doesn’t want to watch it with me. And I have work at 6:00am the next day. FML. I’m actually pissed! Yes, I’m aware that I could download the next day and watch it on my laptop but that’s just like eating something from Tableau out of a take out container. Just no. It shouldn’t be done. And instead of being a great boyfriend and sacrificing two hours of his time to watch RHOV with me, he’s taking me to watch The Hunger Games, dinner, and catch up on Spartacus. Snore. I don’t even want to watch stupid Hunger Games anymore. And I don’t care about dinner because I would be more than glad to make him a homecooked meal (and demonstrate my future housewife skills) instead. My food is better than any restaurant he would take me to in Richmond anyways. Spartacus is a good thing though. But anyways, I’m freakin’ pissed. Oh, and even though I work at an ungodly hour the next morning, I would more than gladly give up sleep to watch this show. I’ve been waiting like a YEAR for this to come out, for fuck’s sake. I haven’t had cable for a month or so nor do I come home to any company (I live at home, FYI) so a little TV would be a real treat, to be honest. RHOV is a guilty pleasure of mine. And that 2-hour time slot where my brain will turn to mush will be greatly appreciated in the long run. All in all, I am pissed. I am not one to hide my anger and homeboy couldn’t even take the hint (well, he did but he just wouldn’t budge). Dealbreaker? Perhaps. Time to pull out the ‘no sex’ card.